


Soul Searching

by TheStoryDemon



Series: Soul Searching Adventures [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A Voldemort and Harry Roadtrip, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But No Horcrux Destroying, Harry Potter is a Horcrux, Horcrux Hunting, Humor, No Bashing, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28224363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStoryDemon/pseuds/TheStoryDemon
Summary: It began, as things often did in Harry's life, with Voldemort.In which Harry learns he's a horcrux, Voldemort rediscovers the wonders of being a teenager, and wizard terrorism hits an all-time high on Privet Drive.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter & Voldemort
Series: Soul Searching Adventures [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2124084
Comments: 1
Kudos: 32





	Soul Searching

1

It began, as things often did in Harry’s life, with Voldemort. 

Events had been progressing arguably well during the summer before his fifth year despite Voldemort’s unfortunate resurrection a few months prior. Harry buried any fear-guilt-grief in the mindless chores handed to him by the Dursley’s. He stubbornly lost himself to monotonous scrubbing and mixing and sweeping and was proud to say that the Dursley’s had the best damn garden on Privet Drive. 

Of course, as his luck would have it, things took a steep downward decline in late June when the neighbor’s house got nuked. Not by a muggle bomb, as Harry would later find out, but by some insanely strong blasting curse cast by a wizard terrorist. And Harry, following natural human instincts to approach the scene of the crime and ogle along with the rest of the neighborhood, stepped out of 4 Privet Drive’s blood ward range. 

And promptly found himself kidnapped by the wizard terrorist. 

2

In Harry’s pretty credible opinion, Voldemort was the most notorious wizard terrorist the wizarding world had seen in the past half-century, so he didn’t really understand why old snake-face got so offended over the description. 

“If you’re not ready for people’s honest opinions, then maybe you shouldn’t read their minds without their permission,” Harry pointed out, finding the attempted _Crucio_ thrown at him extremely unfair when he hadn’t even said “wizard terrorist” out loud. How was it his fault that the first thing Voldemort read out of his brain were his opinions regarding the explosion that spectacularly erased the neighbor’s house from existence? 

“Hush, you fool boy,” Voldemort hissed back, caressing his wand as he spoke. “Be grateful that I have not killed you yet.” 

“Er, not that I’m not grateful for your restraint, but why _haven’t_ you killed me yet? Now’s a perfect opportunity.” It really was. Voldemort had stripped Harry of his wand and used his giant snake to restrain Harry in a death-grip to a chair. The three of them sat in some abandoned mansion in the middle of nowhere which wasn’t what Harry had thought Voldemort’s hideout would look like. He’d imagined more blood and creepiness and not so much dust and cobwebs. 

“If you do not cease your chatter, you will find the issue of your wellbeing quickly remedied,” Voldemort retorted before returning to staring out the window in thought. What was he even thinking about? How to best torture Harry? Maybe he was trying to choose between varying methods of killing him, in which case Harry really should deserve to give his input. 

When he voiced such thoughts, all he was met with was some irritated hissing and a _Silencio_. 

3

To his slight shame, Harry ended up falling asleep despite the giant death-snake wrapped cozily around him and the dark lord planning his painful end a mere ten-feet away from him.

He wasn’t surprised to find his dreams were no better than his reality. 

He was looking down at himself, pale and tired and restrained to a fancy chair in the middle of the room. He looked terrible to be honest, and Voldemort must have shared his opinion because he felt himself sneer. 

_“Harry Potter,”_ he spat. _“The boy destined to vanquish me, yet at the same time a vessel for my soul.”_ Well, that certainly sounded worrying. Harry really hoped Voldemort was just being poetical and didn’t literally mean Harry had his soul inside of him. How would that even _work_? 

“ _He is like us, Master?”_ the snake hissed in question, slithering around Harry’s unconscious form to raise its giant head towards Voldemort. 

_“Unfortunately, Nagini_ ,” Voldemort confirmed, stroking Nagini’s head. _“Now it becomes clear why the Grim is after the boy as well. We must go check on the other pieces after he wakes.”_

Harry’s thoughts whirled about his head in an overwhelming manner. He was like Voldemort and Nagini? Perhaps he was a snake, Harry thought half-hysterically. Maybe he was a permanently transfigured snake living an ignorant existence as a human wizard. That would explain why he knew Parseltongue, wouldn’t it? 

And there was a Grim after him? A Grim that wasn’t Sirius? Harry would think that after third year he had more experience detecting ominous signs of death in his immediate environment but apparently, he had been so deep in pruning the garden this summer that he had completely missed it. 

And things had been going so _well_. 

(They really hadn’t.)

4

When Harry returned to the land of the living, Voldemort was seated in front of him in a lavish throne that was presumably conjured because the mental image of Voldemort dragging the chair through the doorway was too ridiculous. Nagini was still wrapped around Harry but thankfully she had slackened her grip before all his extremities lost blood circulation. 

“So,” Harry began awkwardly. “Am I a snake?” 

“What?” Voldemort snapped incredulously, his scary façade slipping for a moment in genuine confusion. “What are you on about?”

“Look, I don’t know how exactly but I overheard you talking to your death-snake while I was sleeping.” 

Voldemort frowned before seeming to realize something. “Have you had any other dreams concerning me recently?” Harry blinked at him because it was a bloody stupid question. Did Voldemort think the whole graveyard fiasco was something people walked away from without paralyzing nightmares? He finally nodded since Voldemort was expecting an answer. 

“Interesting,” the dark lord murmured. “And what exactly did you overhear?” 

“Er, that apparently your soul is inside me, a Grim is after both of us, and that I’m a snake like you and Nagini.” 

Voldemort leveled a look of complete and utter disdain at Harry. "You are not a _snake_ , you utterly daft boy. Has Dumbledore’s presence addled your mind so much that you cannot even comprehend the difference between wizards and reptiles?” 

“But you said I’m like you and Nagini!” Harry insisted, offended. He’d really rather face the truth rather than live in denial any longer.

“I meant the same in that you are both my horcruxes!” 

“Oh.” Then, “Wait, what’s a horcrux?”

5

After Voldemort finished explaining what a horcrux was with a teaching manner superior to most professors in Harry’s life, Harry found himself yearning for the reality where he truly was a permanently transfigured snake disguised as a human wizard. It was a better alternative to _this_.

“You mean I’m literally your human anchor? And that’s why you can’t kill me?” Harry cried, horrified. “Then what was the bloody point of the past fifteen years of misery?” 

“You cannot possibly be blaming me,” Voldemort chided, lounging in his throne as if he hadn’t obliterated the very basis of Harry’s life moments ago. “I didn’t know you were my horcrux until recently.”

“I bloody well can blame you! You killed my parents and tried to kill me when I was a baby, never mind all the times after that! You even robbed me of a normal education!”

Voldemort rolled his eyes, treating accusations of murder like they were minor details. “I have already explained to you the circumstances behind my actions. Severus had brought me such a damning prophecy and you expect me to have taken no measures to ensure my safety?” Severus? As in Severus _Snape?_

“I was a baby!” Harry seethed. “What threat could I have possibly posed to you?”

“It is all in the past,” Voldemort dismissed as if that didn’t make him the most colossal hypocrite Harry knew. “I am now focused on the new threat the Grim poses.”

Absolutely fuming at the change in subject, Harry opened his mouth to continue his tirade but was met with a wandless silencing spell.

“Listen once because I will not repeat myself,” Voldemort instructed. “My informants tell me that the Grim is an assassin who employs both muggle and magical means in his work. His moniker is fashioned after the omen of death because he has never failed to complete an assignment.” Voldemort sneered. “Pity, he’s going to be disappointed with his latest assignment, but he’ll be dead soon enough.” 

6

Then Voldemort reached into his long black robes and pulled out a small vial. In it was a small amount of blue potion. Harry couldn’t recognize it, but then again, he’d had an abysmal potions professor for most of his life who was also apparently a Death Eater, so his ignorance was forgivable.

“I am far too recognizable in this form,” Voldemort continued. “Therefore, I had Severus prepare a potion to alter my appearance in a permanent manner that would be impervious to any detections, wards, or spells meant to reverse the change or recognize me. However, this potion is experimental, and a possible side-effect is that it will also alter my magic.” Maybe it would turn him into a squib, Harry thought with glee. “I require your blood to ensure nothing will go awry. You hold my wand’s brother and a piece of me inside of you so there is no better candidate. You should feel honored, child.” 

Harry tried to communicate just how honored he felt with his eyes since his mouth was still silenced. He leaned backwards when Voldemort drew his wand but Nagini didn’t let him move more than a few inches. With a quick cutting hex, Voldemort slit the top of Harry’s forearm enough so that blood welled against the pale flesh. He carefully levitated a few droplets of dark blood into the vial, turning the potion a deeper indigo color. 

Despite himself, Harry leaned forward in interest when Voldemort downed the potion in one swallow. At first, nothing happened. Then Voldemort’s features started stretching and shifting. His shoulders jerked down and in and his papery claw-like hands spasmed before shrinking. 

Harry was getting nauseous from watching so he shut his eyes until Voldemort finally spoke again. “Well, Potter?”

Harry opened his eyes. 

  
  
7

Tom Riddle’s handsome sixteen-year-old face stared back at him and Harry cursed in shock. "Fuck!"

“What is it?” Voldemort demanded using Riddle’s mouth. He conjured a mirror. 

“Potter,” Voldemort finally hissed, except now it was a _handsome_ hiss and not so screechy. “What is the meaning of this?” Faintly, Harry thought Voldemort was being pretty ungrateful since most people would kill to look like Tom Riddle, Harry included. 

“It’s your own fault!” Harry defended himself. “That stupid diary horcrux must’ve influenced the spell.” 

Voldemort hissed some more at his reflection before finally settling into silence. He absently touched his nose and Harry watched in delighted horror at the display of vanity. Regrettably, Harry could no longer call him old snake-face in his head. 

Finally, Voldemort sighed, bringing up one elegant hand to massage his temple. “I suppose the Grim will not be searching for two teenage boys traveling together. And no one knows of Tom Riddle’s fate besides Dumbledore so I will not be connected to Voldemort.” Well, that wasn’t true but Harry wasn’t about to tell Voldemort that Ginny, Ron, and Hermione all knew about Tom Riddle because his diary horcrux didn’t know the meaning of subtle. It was probably a good thing that he’d offed that particular horcrux.

“Traveling together?” Harry asked instead. 

Voldemort gave a small hum. “My horcruxes have been compromised. I must find and relocate them to more secure positions. And I do not trust leaving you in the care of any of my Death Eaters. No, better you remain with me.” 

“How do you know I won’t run away the first chance I get?” Harry questioned because he really was quite curious about why Voldemort was being so freakishly amiable. Moreover, it wasn’t like Voldemort didn’t know that Harry would betray him at the first opportunity. 

Voldemort glared at Harry, blue eyes flashing a familiar red. “And where would you go? To Dumbledore? If the Grim has discovered the existence of my horcruxes as well as the fact that you are my horcrux, how long do you think it will take Dumbledore to fathom the same? By your own words you are my ‘human anchor.’ Do you think the fool will let you live?”

Harry gaped. “You think Professor Dumbledore would _murder_ me?!”

“Oh, he wouldn’t be so crude. He’d probably trick you into sacrificing yourself and paint you a war martyr. It’s politically neater.” 

Harry wanted to deny Voldemort’s completely absurd words but then he recalled the various strange conversations he’d had with the Headmaster over the past few years. The hints the wizened wizard had dropped. His stomach twisted. 

"I think Dumbledore already knows.” 

Voldemort then proceeded to throw a great giant magical tantrum that had Harry ducking for cover behind Nagini’s scaly body. 

8

“What should I call you?” Harry asked Voldemort as he pried open the kitchen window of the Dursley residence. After he’d calmed down, Voldemort had decided that it was best to return to the Dursley’s under the cover of the night and retrieve Harry’s invisibility cloak. He’d gotten that tidbit of knowledge from the second round of _legilimens_ he’d cast on Harry to figure out just how much Dumbledore knew about the existence of the horcruxes. 

Turns out he probably knew a lot. 

But Voldemort’s mood quickly improved once he found out from Harry’s traitorous brain that Harry had inherited an invisibility cloak. He was downright gleeful about it, which told Harry he ought to be worried but he couldn’t figure out what Voldemort could possibly want with the cloak. To sneak up on Dumbledore? 

“I can’t keep calling you Voldemort,” Harry continued in a whisper, finally managing to open the window enough to crawl inside. “That makes the whole physical disguise pointless, don’t you think?” Voldemort jumped onto the window ledge and swung inside the house in a far more elegant manner than Harry’s awkward scrambling. “Should I call you Tom?”

Voldemort glared. “If you dare, you’ll quickly find yourself without a tongue.” They crept through the dark house with Harry in the lead. The cloak was locked up in the cupboard with all the rest of Harry’s school belongings. 

“How about Thomas?” Harry offered. 

“It will suffice for now.” How generous of him. 

They stopped in front of the locked-up cupboard and Harry gestured towards it. He couldn’t unlock it since he was underage and casting a simple _alohomara_ might bring the entire Ministry cracking down on their heads. With a lazy flick of Voldemort’s wand, the lock clicked open and fell to the ground with small metal thud. The cupboard door swung open.

At the same time, the stairs above the cupboard also gave a creak. 

9

Turned out it was a bleary-eyed Dudley looking for some midnight snacks.

“Dad’s going to kill you for disappearing and having the nerve to come back,” Dudley told Harry before noticing that he wasn’t alone. “Who’s that?”

Voldemort responded for him, probably because Harry didn’t really know how to describe their relationship. “I am a friend who came to pick up one of my belongings I lent to Harry.”

“Harry doesn’t have any friends,” Dudley countered matter-of-factly. “He’s a freak.”

Harry interjected before dear Dudders was brutally murdered by Voldemort. “Dudley, if you don’t tell anyone about this, I’ll bake you a triple-layer chocolate-raspberry cake when I get back.” Dudley frowned, thinking it over. He then slowly nodded and continued on his way to the kitchen.

With a backdrop of Dudley’s snack-hunting noises, Harry and Voldemort returned their attention to the cupboard. Harry ducked inside the familiar space and felt around for his school trunk.

“Cast a _lumos_ , won’t you?” Harry threw back at Voldemort. The other wizard hissed moodily for a moment about not taking orders but eventually complied. Soft white light flooded the cupboard and revealed its contents.

“Why is there a bed in here?” Oh hell. Harry didn’t want to have this conversation with Voldemort. So he ignored the question and focused on unlatching his school trunk and grabbing the cloak. “Child, I know you aren’t deaf so answer before I actually make you so.”

“You know, _Thomas,_ we currently look the same age. You can’t call me ‘child’ without getting weird looks.” Harry’s poor attempt at diverting Voldemort’s attention didn’t work.

“I doubt your bloated whale of a cousin could fit in here, which means—” Harry scowled but couldn’t help peeking to see Voldemort’s expression upon reaching the correct conclusion regarding the cupboard’s purpose.

What he didn’t expect was the furious look Voldemort was leveling him. How was this _Harry’s_ fault?

“ _Incendio,”_ Voldemort hissed and promptly set Harry’s old bed on fire.

Harry frantically scrambled backwards from the flames because, _damn,_ Voldie had put some power behind that spell. “Are you bloody _INSANE_? The house is made of wood, you moron! This isn’t the 1950’s!”

“Pity,” was all Voldemort had to say.

10

As they made their daring escape from a burning 4 Privet Drive, Harry realized two things:

Firstly, that Voldemort was totally a wizard terrorist. Privet Drive could now boast two of his terrorist attacks.

And secondly, that Voldemort had been able to pass the blood wards. Which meant--

Well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this, don't forget to leave some comments!


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